schoolboy looks on his holidays.
This day, however, he had been sombre and mute, with scarce a word a
mile to bestow upon his comrade.

"Tell me Alleyne Edricson," he broke out, suddenly, as they clattered
along the winding track which leads over the Bournemouth hills, "has it
not seemed to you that of late the Lady Maude is paler and more silent
than is her wont?"

"It may be so," the other answered shortly.

"And would rather sit distrait by her oriel than ride gayly to the chase
as of old. Methinks, Alleyne, it is this learning which you have taught
her that has taken all the life and sap from her. It is more than she
can master, like a heavy spear to a light rider."

"Her lady-mother has so ordered it," said Alleyne.

"By our Lady! and withouten disrespect," quoth Terlake, "it is in my
mind that her lady-mother is more fitted to lead a company to a storming
than to have the upbringing of this tender and milk-white maid. Hark ye,
lad Alleyne, to what I never told man or woman yet. I love the fair Lady
Maude, and would give the last drop of my heart's blood to serve her."
He spoke with a gasping voice, and his face flushed crimson in the
moonlight.

Alleyne said nothing, but his heart seemed to turn to a lump of ice in
his bosom.

"My father has broad acres," the other continued, "from Fareham Creek to
the slope of the Portsdown Hill. There is filling of granges, hewing
of wood, malting of grain, and herding of sheep as much as heart could
wish, and I the only son. Sure am I that Sir Nigel would be blithe at
such a match."

"But how of the lady?" asked Alleyne, with dry lips.

"Ah, lad, there lies my trouble. It is a toss of the head and a droop of
the eyes if I say one word of what is in my mind. 'Twere as easy to woo
the snow-dame that we shaped last winter in our castle yard. I did but
ask her yesternight for her green veil, that I might bear it as a token
or lambrequin upon my helm; but she flashed out at me that she kept it
for a better man, and then all in a breath asked pardon for that she had
spoke so rudely. Yet she would not take back the words either, nor would
she grant the veil. Has it seemed to thee, Alleyne, that she loves any
one?"

"Nay, I cannot say," said Alleyne, with a wild throb of sudden hope in
his heart.

"I have thought so, and yet I cannot name the man. Indeed, save myself,
and Walter Ford, and you, who are half a clerk, and Father Christopher
of the Priory, and Bertrand the